


Pilgrim of Eternity

by iorekbyrnison



Category: Star Trek
Genre: AO3 1 Million, BAMF Kirk, BAMF Spock, Child Abuse, Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kirk's got serious issues, M/M, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Star Trek: Into Darkness, Star Trek: Into Darkness Spoilers, Suicide Attempt, Tarsus IV, a serious amount of triggers here people, but not main cast, death of children, gratuitous use of angst, misuse of medicinal substances, nuTrek!, pretty much BAMF Enterprise crew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iorekbyrnison/pseuds/iorekbyrnison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Jim stomped his foot on the gas creating a new cloud of dirt and grime. And moments before he tipped over the edge, moments before flight, Jim jumped out. Safe. Not ready yet. But something within him had ignited. (Spoilers for Into Darkness/sort of focused on-Tarsus fic/hurt!Kirk/nuVerse) SLASH, graphic violence. K/S as always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pilgrim of Eternity

\---{{{***}}}---

_“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more, it is a tale by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Shakespeare_

The sounds almost overwhelmed the vibration that slithered through his clinched fists. Around him the dust swirled and the sirens of the police officer blared, but James Tiberius Kirk could not be swayed. He couldn’t let Frank, the bastard, sell his dad’s car. He couldn’t let Frank be the one who controlled the last piece of George Kirk that meant anything. Sam was gone. Mom was never there. And Jim just wasn’t enough, enough of a Kirk, enough of a boy, enough of his father’s son to be considered anything better than _somewhat_ worth it.

And the adrenaline that coursed through his veins was delicious, painfully so in his twelve year old body. The thought of the cliff, of the brief moment of flight before the undeniable explosions of twisted metal and exhaust was exhilarating. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Jim stomped his foot on the gas creating a new cloud of dirt and grime.

And moments before he tipped over the edge, moments before flight, Jim jumped out.

Safe.

Not ready yet.

But something within him had ignited.

\---{{{***}}}---

_“Cause your soul is on fire_

_A shot in the dark_

_What did they aim for_

_When they missed your heart.”_

_Shot in the Dark—Within Temptation_

 

His mother sent him to Tarsus IV and then everything went to shit. First the group of children was large, but then the plague set in, followed by the drought, starvation, and being hunted like wild game by Kodos’ grunts. Jim relied on Thomas probably too much, but all the children relied on Jim to save them, or at the very least, to make life a little less frightening.

Still, they died with alarming swiftness, his babies; they succumbed to any manner of things: fear, malnutrition, wounds, giving up. What was once a group of fifty children whittled quickly down to twelve. And when Kodos finally found them, when they were all too weak to run anymore, they were tortured. Jim wasn’t ashamed, would never be ashamed to say he cried over their corpses when two more perished the first night of captivity.

The last night he sat with her body cradled in his arms. She wasn’t his youngest baby, but she also wasn’t the oldest. Her sobs were silent, but that was a matter of biology. With calloused hands Jim ran his fingers softly along the tips of pointed ears, alarmed, but resigned to the paler than normal green skin. Though her temperature had always been colder than the rest, he knew this was the end.

“Shhh . . . T’Laina . . . it’ll be okay. Rest just for a little while baby.” The Vulcan child turned her face towards Jim lethargically. In her black eyes were the truth. Jim was sure his reflected the same. He began to hum a stuttering melody, truncated with wisps of what could have been lyrics. It was instinctive at that point to provide her with what little comfort he could. A death song. “ _Go to sleep and rest your eyes . . . shhh baby . . . go to sleep and dream my dear . . .”_ Jim’s voice hitched in his throat, barely able to continue the melody.

As the life dimmed in her body, T’laina raised a hand to his face. The brush against his mind was weak, feeble at best, but Jim heard it clearly. _Papa. Sa-mekh_. And the love and sadness and agony and fear bombarded his brain, but he just held on tighter, stroking dirty black hair, willing his own love into her body, knowing that hopes and wishes were futile at this point.

She died soon after.

He was selfish. Jim knew it, because he wanted more than anything in that moment to be the next one to die.

Then Starfleet arrived.

But he couldn’t bury that feeling for many years after.

\---{{{***}}}---

_“Cowards die many time before their deaths; the valiant taste death but once.”_

_Shakespeare_

Jim Kirk still hated his step father, but if the only way to get out of the house was to become everything he hated, then Jim reconciled that being the drunken genius loser of Riverside, Iowa was okay. He was only seventeen, but the night was young. Jim couldn’t remember where he’d parked his motorcycle and maybe that was a good thing, because he was already plastered. At his side a young brunette giggled and whispered something obscene in his ear. Jim actually found such behavior repulsive, but that night his drunken mind ate it all up.

Hours later, when the sun began to peak over the horizon, he slipped out of some hotel room and tracked down his bike. He still had some alcohol in his system, but the ride wasn’t unpleasant. Riverside is a strange mix of the past and the future, but the smell in the air was as constant as the blue in the sky and the wind that whipped through his blonde hair as he drove leisurely throughout the country side was sweet.

When he got home he did not go inside the house. All that was left there was Frank and the promise of another fight. Instead he headed to the barn and spent the rest of the dim hours of morning putting back a case of cheap beer and trying to catch some sleep in the horse stalls.

That was his life.

So he tried to drown it with alcohol.

It never, _never_ , never worked.

\---{{{***}}}---

_“Anything dead coming back to life hurts.”_

_Beloved—Toni Morrison_

Bones kept hypos in their dorm room. Jim hadn’t noticed it at first. For all of his wandering in his teenage years, for all of his mindless fucking and suicidal tendencies, he found himself actually liking Starfleet Academy. Sure, Bones was grumpy and kept odd hours, but the guy was solid, dependable, and more real than any of the floozies or drunks Jim had called friends before.

Gradually he became aware of them though. Bones always had a remedy for his many surprising and continuously evolving allergies. He could always find the cure for late night insomnia. There was an old dermal regenerator too that Jim often borrowed after particularly violent bar brawls he still took part in from time to time.

But at first he hadn’t been interested in the sedatives. Sleeping was a waste of time as far as he was concerned (though Bones disagreed adamantly). And fucking his way through the willing population of the academy numbed him just enough when it all got to be too much.

But there were still days he couldn’t handle it, still days where he would drink himself into oblivion (despite Bones’ pleas against it), still days where all he could do was roll over in bed and look at the ceiling, leaving his friend with the assumption that he was trying to contain the pain of yet another hangover. During the spring it was the anniversary of the massacre on Tarsus, the memories of T’laina dying in his arms, of carrying Kevin sick and hungry through the hills with the other frightened children trailing behind them, away from Kodos’s hunters.

But those memories were dulled, forcibly by his own trauma and the good fortune that _some_ of his babies actually survived the horrible last few days on Tarsus. Only in his dreams did the full horror of Tarsus and its consequences overwhelm him. In his waking hours the memories constantly burned at the back of his brain, guiding him, leading him, reminding him of his own mistakes and giving suggestions so those mistakes wouldn’t be repeated. Jim Kirk wouldn’t allow Tarsus to defeat him, not after he had survived it once.

His birthday was an entirely different story. James Tiberius Kirk had learned from a young age that he would never ever measure up to the insurmountable expectations that his father’s shadow created. James would never be George, would never amount to anything, and would always be a laze about drunk despite that his IQ probably surpassed his dad’s by a long shot. His mother had never said such, but it was obvious by her desperate attempts to be anywhere but in the same room as him, that she on some level blamed him for his father’s death. Sam wasn’t so circumspect about his feelings. He absolutely blamed James for the death of his father, his hero who went into space and never came back. It was an absurd notion, James thought, when he was old enough to understand. Why blame a baby for the actions of a man? If George Kirk was half the man that the population of Riverside and Starfleet professed him to be then he shouldn’t have needed the thought of a newborn to save his ship. If George Kirk had been half the man the world thought he was then he shouldn’t have taken his pregnant wife into space and put himself in the situation where he had to choose between two options that both ended inevitably with his death.

James Tiberius Kirk did not believe in no win scenarios.

Well, perhaps that was a bit unfair of him as well, but if James could be held to the standards of George Kirk since the time of his birth, then certainly George Kirk could be held to his own standards in death. Nobody knew what really went on the USS Kelvin that day. By the time the relief ships had arrived James had been a few days old, dangerously premature and born in an irradiated environment, and Starfleet was reeling from the shear implications and PR nightmare the entire situation had created. The dissertation published by Christopher Pike was the only real account that came to light in the months that became known as the aftermath.

But it was that one giant Kelvin cluster fuck that had determined the path of Jim’s life: the attitude, the neglect, the blame, the drinking, Tarsus, and so much more. Even if Jim could rationalize how absurd it was to blame a child for the choices of a man, it didn’t stop him from believing his mother’s silent depression and his brother’s increasingly troubled behavior was entirely his fault.

So, yes, his birthday was always the worst day of his year. If it wasn’t the constant looks of pity sent his way, even years later that got to him, then it was the fact that nobody, _nobody_ , recognized that mourning a ghost twenty-something years later wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable birthday activity in the world.

Which brought about his new fascination with the stock of hypos that Bones kept in their dorm for emergency purposes. On his 24th birthday Jim sat on his bed staring down at a hand full of sedative hypos contemplating his options. He hadn’t actively tried to kill himself since he was twelve years old. The whole car/cliff episode was the push his mother and stepfather needed to send him off to Tarsus. That alone should have made him put the hypos back where he’d found them, but it only created a new resolve within him. Instead of turning back at the last moment like the last time Jim pushed the sedatives into his neck in quick succession, four in total which was enough to kill a horse, and laid back on his bed staring at the ceiling.

The sedatives were quick acting. Only minutes later the darkness began to creep into his vision and he spared a thought to his family. They hadn’t pushed him to this place. That particular blame was completely his own to create and destroy, but they certainly hadn’t prevented it. He vaguely wondered if his mother would even come back this time from the ship she’d been stationed on for the last four years to attend his funeral. He wondered if Sam had ever stopped blaming him, if he’d gotten over his dislike of space and maybe settled down. He felt sorry that this was how Bones would find him when he returned from his shift at the hospital later that night, far too late to counteract the effects of the sedatives that were already working to slow his brain function, his heart rate, and lungs. Jim could have chuckled, a macabre spectacle had he the energy, but he didn’t.

He was swept away by exhaustion. A silent, numbing nothingness that he’d sought his entire life.

That was why he never noticed the door to the small room opening only minutes afterwards and Bone’s cheery voice telling him that he’d switched his shift with another med student so the two of them could go drinking for his birthday. He never heard Bones’ frantic shout when the man discovered his body laid out on the bed, hypos lying on the end table like a perverted excuse for a present. He never felt the jarring of his body during the mad rush to Starfleet medical or the pulse shocks meant to restart his heart or the tube stuck down his throat so he could breathe. Jim’s head was filled with a blissful silence. A complete ignorance of his earthly body.

Peace.

And it continued until he woke up three weeks later in a hospital room with Bones sitting in a chair by his bed, head resting in his hands, looking like he hadn’t slept even once since Jim’s birthday.

_“Bones?”_ The man’s head sprung up in shock and he gazed at Jim’s face with a strange mixture of confused relief before rage settled over his features.

“ _Damnit Jim! What the hell were you thinking?”_ His scream filled the hospital room completely. Some part of Jim registered the shock of sudden noise after such a prolonged period of silence.

“ _I didn’t think I would wake up.”_ He coughed into his hand, realizing that his throat was dry, and avoided looking at what Bones’ face would reveal this time.

_“Oh Jim.”_

_“I won’t do it again.”_ It was just as well that Bones obviously didn’t believe him. From that point on, even after he was released from the hospital, Bones’ eyes followed him with a contemplative light. At first he wouldn’t leave his friend alone for long periods of time. He certainly never left any hypos in the dorm where Jim could find them anymore. All forms of medication, even the emergency allergy medication, were kept on his person at all times.

Neither of them had to mention or elaborate on what Jim had really said that day in the hospital. It was there always, for the rest of their lives, floating like a specter binding them together and pushing them apart at the same time.

“ _I won’t fail again.”_

And Bones had answered back, “ _You won’t die on my watch. I’m a doctor Jim, not a funeral director._ ”

\---{{{***}}}---

_“It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for;_

_I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill.”_

_Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls_

 

Despite the relationship that grew between the doctor and the cadet, Jim figured out fairly quickly that there was something seriously wrong with him. Pike had screamed at him in fear and disappointment about a hundred times concerning the hypo incident, but somehow managed to cover the entire thing up like he’d made all of Jim’s past criminal activity disappear when he’d enrolled in Starfleet.

But there was a distinct transformation from the Jim he was and the Jim he became then. It was similar to Tarsus, the feeling, because on that colony it wasn’t about living. It was about survival first and foremost. What Jim discovered was after waking up in that hospital was that there is a difference between surviving and living.

Because though he wanted to survive, he never wanted to _live_. And he didn’t really know how to fix that, to fix himself.

The hypos were his last ever conscious effort to kill himself. Honestly, in the end it wasn’t Bones who prevented his suicide, but the crazy fucked up situation that was the Narada Incident. It would have been easy to give up then, to die in a blaze of glory, to let himself freeze or be eaten on Delta Vega, but Jim didn’t. For all that he wanted to die himself, he never wanted his death to inadvertently cause others their lives. He mourned the loss of his classmates and teachers, tried his best to prevent the loss of Vulcan, rescued Captain Pike because it was the right thing to do, not because he was cocky as Uhura thought, or arrogant as Spock suggested. For all that Bones ranted afterward about the situation, Jim knew that his friend was just relieved that he didn’t take the ultimate chance when it came around and survived another day, even if he survived because of his overdeveloped sense of duty and underwhelming self-esteem.

It wasn’t easy to say what became of him then, even afterwards, when his life finally settled down into a less masochistic rhythm and he was a brand new, youngest ever, Starfleet captain. He had his ship, The Enterprise, the silver lady, and a crew that he grew fonder of every single day. For all intents and purposes he should have been happy, but Jim Kirk knew best of all how to fake a smile when the occasion required it. For all that Spock ranted (though he would never admit to doing so) about his lack of emotional control, Jim wondered what the Vulcan would think if he really knew who his captain was underneath the bravado and flirting. Certainly nobody ever looked at him and saw anything but what they wanted to see. It was a trait Jim had eagerly taken advantage of his entire life, one that nobody, not Uhura, not Bones, not even Spock had been able to figure out.

There was of hierarchy in his heart, as corny as that sounded. First his babies, then Bones, then his crew, then Pike, and then the Enterprise. Before each away mission he took a catalogue of that list, weighing his options, trying to make sure everyone stayed as safe as possible and still complete the objective. If he himself became the one thing that could be sacrificed to save the others, so be it. Jim called that common sense. Bones called it bat-shit crazy. Spock, with an ever growing awareness of his commanding officer, called it “ _against exactly twelve Starfleet regulations pertaining to the function and well-being of a Starfleet Captain.”_

So it made a sort of twisted sense that it was for Spock that all his masks, his bravado, the true nature of his Captain’s resolve came crumbling down. Even when he was violating the Prime Directive on Nibiru, Jim knew it could be the end of his career. He wasn’t stupid. Hell, he was a fucking genius, but he couldn’t just let one of his crew die. He couldn’t let _Spock_ die. It was a gut reaction, something that he couldn’t have resisted no matter how many times and ways Bones reiterated that Spock would not return the sentiment. His career was a paltry price to pay if Spock’s life was the merchandise. And so he did it without thought, without any hope that Spock would ever be grateful, because he knew the Vulcan wouldn’t understand, not yet at least. Even if Spock _never_ understood, that was all right with Jim. As long as the Vulcan was alive to reprimand him, as long as he was _alive_ , nothing else in the universe mattered even one bit.

That was what it meant to be Jim Kirk’s friend, Bones said repeatedly under his breath, grumbling at his Captain’s disregard for his own life. The green blooded hobgoblin didn’t deserve Jim’s loyalty, but he had it. It was Bones’ job to make sure that loyalty didn’t get Jim killed.

And Jim did lose his position as captain. Of course he did, because Spock had complete faith in Starfleet regulations and hadn’t quite developed a sense of when to pull the wool over his superior’s eyes. Did the Vulcan predict that they would both be reassigned? Had he given thought that Jim would be stripped of his title, possibly kicked out of Starfleet all together? Jim didn’t know. He liked to think that in the aftermath of the whole USS Vengeance that Spock hadn’t realized just how far off the deep end Fleet Admiral Marcus had landed.

Honestly, in the moment, Jim didn’t think he would survive to ever know. When John Harrison, later revealed as Khan, killed Christopher Pike, something had shook lose within Jim. All the things he’d been bottling up since that dusty almost-drive off a cliff in Iowa began to bubble up within him until he couldn’t tell up from down or right from wrong. And Marcus’ orders were fishy, sure, but Jim’s past was lined with the corpses of those he’d tried and failed to save. Pike’s body, the man he’d come to think of as a father, was just a fresh wound atop decades of scar tissue. Revenge sounded almost too sweet. A mission to Qo’noS was just plain suicidal, even for Jim, but he let himself believe for only a moment that getting back at John Harrison was the right thing to do, no matter the consequences.

He was a fool to think the consequences wouldn’t be the death of his crew. He was a fool to not recognize the delusion of power that clouded Marcus’ eyes. He’d seen it before, after all, lingering in Kodos’ cruel gaze as he smirked at Kirk and his babies, moments away from giving the order to kill them all. He was a fool to think even for a moment that he could captain a ship when he couldn’t even bring himself out of a depression that had lasted some twenty years.

And it was just as well that he became a casualty aboard the USS Enterprise, to atone for all the wrongs that had been accumulating upon his shoulders throughout his life, imagined or not. Until that point, when it became obvious that someone would have to make a sacrifice play, he had second guessed every decision he ever made. Did he really want to fly into the ravine with his dad’s old car? Was hiding in the hills the best way to keep his babies alive? Didn’t he owe it to someone to stick it out for one more birthday? Was he doing the right things? Speaking the right words? Smiling correctly? Acting in a befitting manner? Was he succeeding in hiding his inner most doubts?

But there were no other alternatives in his mind when he made the decision to go into the warp chamber. He never once feared for his own life. For the lives of his crew, for Bones, for Pike, for Spock he’d take any chance to get them home safely.

And God it was painful. More so than the gradual starving emptiness of Tarsus, more than the darkened edges of oblivion that he’d experienced at the culmination of bar brawls or those moments when he felt he could finally, _finally_ give up and lose consciousness, not caring whether he woke up in the end or not. His blood boiled and Jim could feel the radiation burns as they spread across his skin. But he could have forgotten all of that, completely erased the idea from his mind, ignored the excruciating pain, if it hadn’t been for the loneliness he felt struggling his way back towards the containment door. Scotty was unconscious. Chekov was somewhere in the bowls of the ship. Bones was in the medical bay. Spock was busy saving the ship, captaining it in a manner hopefully much more successful than he ever could.

And he was _alone_.

So fucking alone in a way that he had never cared about before. What was it that he thought over and over again in his life? It had never mattered before whether he had someone in the end. Even when he’d taken the sedatives Jim hadn’t thought of himself, but of what Bones might think when he returned to find his roommate dead after a long hospital shift. At points in his life, sure, he had speculated that even the good things would falter. Someday even Bones would be gone. Even the Enterprise would be ripped from his hands, like his babies were all those years ago. Love, Jim thought, was profound in its horror. He could love something so deeply because he was always prepared for the inevitable end of it all. Wasn’t that the beauty of it? Wasn’t that the wonder? The endurance of love is that it is transient, brief, temporarily bequeathing happiness to the worthy and unworthy alike before dying, burning up and leaving nothing but a throbbing ache behind it.

But now, faced with the end, knowing that he’d go through it alone in that chamber, Jim didn’t care about his past sins, only for the fear that threatened to overwhelm him, the thought that the reason his own love was transient was merely because he made it so, always trying to leave those that he wished to save. He was so scared when his vision began to dim, when he witnessed Spock’s tears, when he lifted his hand wishing that he could feel the temperature of the Vulcan’s skin beneath his fingertips. The path he was taking was fulfilling, yes. His crew would be safe, yes, but Jim was so afraid of the loneliness that became as solid a barrier as the glass between his hand and Spock’s.

His First Officer’s tears; he wanted to touch them, rest his forehead against the Vulcan’s and send Spock what he was feeling as T’Laina was able to years before.

_“I’m scared Spock.” 1_ Would his thoughts echo? Would Spock hear all the things Jim wanted to say, but couldn’t because there just wasn’t enough time?

Jim died in protest, wishing and hoping for just one more second, but knowing he’d never get it. He died not fearing for his life, but the things he left behind, the memories that could be made, the reaches of space that could be explored, and the people he had come to love despite feeling empty for so long. When others would mourn him in death, Jim would mourn the things unfinished. In his last moments he watched the misery envelope Spock’s face, the anger, and then all he could see was darkness before the pain and Spock’s screams swept him away.

He didn’t expect to wake up. Coming back to life was like taking a gulp of air after being suffocated, like being reborn with all the faculties of an adult mind to sense and taste the world around. Unexplainable and glorious at the same time. As if to counteract the darkness, Jim’s first vision was of the stark white of the hospital ceiling. And the first words he heard were Bones’.

_“Don’t be so melodramatic” 2_ was what his friend said.

_“I’m glad you are alive”_ was what his friend meant.

Maybe it was a chance to begin again. Maybe that moment when he burst into consciousness after the surety of death was a sign. Jim didn’t know. In the days, weeks, months of recovery afterwards he often contemplated his changed views. No longer did he feel the need to hide from Bones or Spock. The two men had seen him at his best and worst. They stayed at his side for the following year, taking his stay in the hospital, the rather vicious visit his finally mother paid him, and the aftermath of the USS Vengeance incident in stride.

Bones grumbled frequently, but in good nature, Jim’s particular skill in nearly killing himself again and again. It was obvious, though, in the way his friend’s eyes lingered upon Jim with a disconsolate expression when he thought the blonde wasn’t paying attention that the entire ordeal had strained the doctor’s infinite patience. Bones had spent the entirety of their friendship piecing Jim back together and he would never stop, but it was a close call. Too close. Bones had been trained to ignore the hopelessness of those he couldn’t save, but the Doctor kept pulling miracles out of thin air hoping and praying that one time he couldn’t would never happen. Jim couldn’t imagine what sort of shock Bones had felt when he’d opened the body bag containing his best friend, but he was sorry, so full of guilt that sometimes he just reached for Bones’ hand without thinking about it. When he felt the callouses beneath his fingers, smelled the antiseptic scent that always lingered around his friend, heard the dulcet tones in Bones’ unfathomable southern accent that still existed in a world of structured uniformity, Jim felt a sense of being alive. The real sort of living, not survival, a thankful breath of real, grateful, air that Bones returned, because the touch wiped away the vision of a Jim’s corpse from his mind and replaced it with the man lying safe in his keeping, broken, but on his way to being fixed.

And Spock became his fucking _hero_. Why?

Spock nerve pinched Winona Kirk.

Yes.

S'chn T'gai Spock fucking _nerve pinched_ James Tiberius Kirk’s _mother_.

The day that Winona Kirk walked through the door of his hospital room was not a good day. When Jim woke up that morning it was with a pounding headache, some residual effect of the blood transfusion that Bones had warned him about. Unfortunately his doctor friend had not arrived to his room yet and the nurses were under strict orders to give him no pain meds unless they were specifically approved by Dr. Leonard McCoy.

Then when his nurse brought his breakfast, bland hospital food had ended up sprayed all across his gown when the poor woman tripped over her own damn feet. This meant Jim, who was also on strict orders to lie in bed and rest, was forced to wait in filth while the nurse could go get an orderly to help him up while the mess was cleaned. Then he was subjected to one of the most awkward showers of his life because obviously he couldn’t stand by himself in the sonics and the poor orderly had to hold a naked, frustrated Jim by the arms as the air buffeted around the Starfleet Captain.

And then, just when Jim was finally getting settled back into his hospital bed, thoroughly exhausted by the events, prepared to just take an early nap until Bones decided to show his grumpy self, Winona walked in. For a moment they just stared at each other. Jim was honestly shocked, because his mother had never made any special trips for him, especially all those times he’d landed himself in the hospital. He watched his mother’s face for any sort of sign as to why she was in San Francisco and not deep in the black on her research vessel.

“You think you’re so great don’t you?” Something flickered in Winona’s eyes then and Jim tried very hard to keep his instinctive flinch from sight.

“Hello mother.”

“You think you can play these games, get shot up, killed and someone will care a little more Jim? Huh? What exactly were you trying to prove when you walked into that warp core?”

Jim’s eyes narrowed. “I was thinking to save my crew.”

Winona scoffed. “You were trying to be your father. News flash kid. You’re not anything like him.” Jim stared at his mother, noticing the tightness around her lips and the wrinkles around her eyes. Even when Jim was a child he’d also thought that his mother looked old, beaten down by life, but now she was a whole new vision. If this was the result of her inability to let go then he wanted no part of it.

“What are you doing here anyway Winona?”

“My captain thought he was doing me a favor putting me on forced leave when he heard you had been injured in this whole incident. He seemed to think I would want to be on Earth sitting at your bedside. Seemed to think you had become a goddamned _hero_ to the Federation.”

Jim raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Your captain obviously doesn’t know you well huh.” Winona frowned and tensed acting as if to step forward and Jim braced himself for the inevitable.

“Why you ungrateful little shit!” Winona took a step forward towards Jim’s bed. “I could be up in space light years away, but they forced me here. You always were a nuisance, not worth George. He was something special, but you, you think you can smile at the cameras and make everything better. You pompous  . . .!” Jim watched in shock as Winona suddenly collapsed to the floor and made to get up when Spock walked through the doorway arm still outstretched, wearing what could have passed for a frown had he not been Vulcan.

“Captain. Are you unharmed?” Jim blinked and settled back down, still trying to process exactly what had happened.

“Spock!? What?”

“I do not understand how this woman was able to pass through the strict security protocols on your hospital room, Captain, but I will contact the appropriate authorities to remove her from your presence. I trust she was unable to physically damage you before I arrived on the scene?” Jim sighed partly in confusion, but also in alarm.

“No Spock, you don’t need to call the authorities. Just lay her in an empty room or something. She’ll leave when she wakes up. Fuck. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve been having.”

“You know this woman?” Spock’s head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Jim wondered if the Vulcan was even aware of that habit and how much it reminded the Captain of a puppy. It was adorable really.

“Ah, yeah. Meet Winona Kirk. She’s my mother. That’s why they let her through security.”

Spock’s body seemed to stiffen even further into his customary standing pose. “Your mother captain?” The Vulcan’s voice was lowered, but Jim recognized that stoic expression on his friends face as the look Spock got when he was especially troubled by something.

“Yeah, she’s a piece of work huh? If you could call an orderly though Spock. I’ve had a rough day and Bones hasn’t even gotten here to torture me yet.” Jim tried to smile in an attempt to diffuse the situation, but Spock was nothing if not focused. It was just unfortunate for Winona that the Vulcan had been focused on nothing but his captain for the past 3.7568 weeks.

“Captain might I enquire on a personal matter?” Spock’s voice was calmer now, but Jim would bet a lot that the Vulcan had his hands clinched in their customary position behind his back.

“Sure Spock.”

“I had presumed that mothers from the planet Terra were open to showing affection to their progeny, yet your mother was verbally attacking you.” Jim swallowed nervously.

“Ah, me and my mom . . . we don’t have the best of relationships.” Jim gazed down at the woman on the floor. Spock didn’t seem in any hurry to move her. Winona actually looked pretty uncomfortable lying all crumpled up. “I look just like my dad you know? She couldn’t handle it very well when I was a kid so she kept applying for missions that would take her off planet. I guess she still can’t handle it twenty something years later either.”

“I . . . see.” Spock spared a glance at Winona. “If Mrs. Kirk was not your primary caregiver in your childhood, might I enquire who raised you?”

Jim gazed at his friend for a moment. He’d never told anyone about his childhood. Bones knew some stuff, but Jim had never trusted anyone enough to allow them past the fake smiles and the man whore persona, but this was Spock, the man who’d almost beat Khan to death to avenge Jim, the man who allowed Jim to lean on him and was there when Pike’s body was taken away. If he couldn’t trust Spock, then Jim couldn’t really trust anybody.  

“My stepfather. His name was Frank. His was a more . . . ah . . . physical type of guidance.” Jim winced as he saw his First Officer’s frame become almost impossibly tighter. The Vulcan wasn’t known for being an idiot. It was obvious that Jim’s thinly veiled attempt to make light of the situation hadn’t worked at all.

“Your stepfather physically harmed you?”

“It’s not a big deal Spock. He died a while back anyway.” But Spock didn’t calm. He stood tall gazing at Jim with an unreadable expression.

“On Vulcan,” Spock paused as if suddenly remembering that there wasn’t a planet Vulcan anymore. “In the Vulcan culture, children are seen as precious and valued. As children are the key to the survival of a species, such incidences of child abuse are unheard of. It is . . . illogical. ”

Jim swallowed. “Well, it’s not seen too favorably on Earth either, but some people just can’t help it you know?”

“Are you suggesting that your step father acted in such a manner because he was incapable of resisting the temptation of child abuse Captain?” Spock’s eyes bore steadily into Jim’s form as the blonde idly observed his mother on the floor. Had it hurt he wondered? When Spock had nerve pinched him during the Narada incident, he couldn’t remember if there had been any pain in the crook of his neck. All that he thought about at the time was the freezing hopeless situation of being abandoned on Delta Vega. By the time he had finally meandered his way into sick bay (just to avoid Bones’ apoplectic fit of rage that he hadn’t come yet) Jim’s injuries from before, after, and during the conflict were so numerous he didn’t know where any of them had come from. By that time, his entire body had felt like a bruise, so he was unsure if his mother would feel the residual effects of the nerve pinch when she finally woke. Jim shook his head and carefully avoided his First Officer’s gaze.

“No. No I’m not. But Spock, I don’t think I can even remember a time when that man wasn’t drunk. Whatever he did, he wasn’t sober doing it. Besides, I got out of there eventually. Here I am, a Starfleet Captain, even though I might not be one for much longer. I count that as an accomplishment no matter what Komack says about my mental faculties. Frank? Frank died of cirrhosis of the liver a few years ago. He went painfully and quietly. I don’t think it’s useful to linger over something that’s done already.”

Spock’s eyes still studied him and Jim had to resist the urge to fidget. He felt like a puzzle and Spock was slowly placing his pieces together. How long would it be before the Vulcan had the most accurate picture? “Though it is perhaps folly to deemphasize your past experience, I do believe it gives further insight into your general reactions and decisions.”

Jim snorted. “I’m not a science experiment Spock.”

“Indeed Captain.” With that Spock moved his eyes from Jim and bent down to pick Winona from the floor, maneuvering her body to fold over his right shoulder, uncaring whether the position would worsen any injuries she might have. “However, any knowledge that might assist myself and Dr. McCoy in maintaining your physical well-being is. . .” Here Spock raised an eyebrow seemingly contemplating his next words, “most appreciative.”

Jim almost smirked at the absurdity of the comment, but decided against it as Spock made his way out the door of the hospital room. Presumably he was moving Winona to an empty room, but if Jim knew Spock at all, the Vulcan would also take the time to inform security to be more selective of his Captain’s visitors. With a smile Jim leaned back against the pillows that the clumsy nurse had fluffed for him early in the day. Confiding in Spock had been a good decision, Jim could feel it, just as surely as he had felt it was right to save his crew at the cost of his own life. With a sigh Jim welcomed the slightly drowsy feeling that began to cloud up his head. It wasn’t even noon yet and he was exhausted. He hoped the nurse from earlier had enough sense to tell Bones about the trying day he’d had, because the last thing he wanted right now was for his friend to come in ranting and raving. A little sleep sounded great.

Just a little nap. . .

. . . a little one.

\---{{{***}}}---

_“_ [ _Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god._ ](http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/a/aristotle399587.html) _”  
Aristotle_

All roads lead to Rome, or in Jim’s case, all roads led to Tarsus IV. That miserable time was the epicenter of all the troubles he had. He might have gotten over an absentee mother and an abusive step father had it not been for Tarsus. He might have found a purpose to live after that. After all, twelve is still young. Dreams don’t die at twelve.  

 

At first Tarsus IV was beautiful, everything he never imagined he could have. After almost killing himself in his dad’s car Jim felt that nothing would get him as close to that feeling of living as almost dying had, but the soft laughter of his aunt warmed something in his body. Playing with his cousins, learning from his uncle, while being able to actively engage his mind in higher pursuits in the Tarsus academy quickly became the dream that Jim didn’t even know he had.

 

He would have called it utopia, save that he didn’t want to jinx the peaceful feeling of being able to wake up without the expectations of everybody on his shoulders. There, Jim wasn’t Kirk’s kid, he wasn’t the practical orphan. He could have forgotten about Frank’s fist pummeling into his skin if only his aunt would continue to tuck him in at night. He was far too happy to protest that being tucked in was for babies. To his aunt and uncle Jim was just a kid, just like any other kid, but he should have known better, even then.

 

Utopias don’t exist.

 

They are impossible, because they aren’t probable. A truly perfect society cannot be made from imperfect beings and what befell Tarsus was the epitome of dystopian life.

 

First came the food shortages. He didn’t worry then, though it was clear that his aunt and uncle had begun to suspect. Next was a complete breakdown of off planet communication systems. Jim had thought it temporary. Then the famine hit and the reality of the situation became clear. What he’d been so happy to call home was threatening to crumble like sand right through his fingertips.

 

The scientists discovered a particularly virulent fungus that had attached itself to the crops. Animals and livestock that ate from the infected samples died a slow and painful death. People followed soon after. For weeks Jim volunteered his services towards any odd job to help out. He delivered food stuffs. He helped in the labs. He watched over the smaller children that lived closer to him. And for a while it worked, if only in his head. Helping out made Jim feel like he was accomplishing something, like if he just did one more chore, the famine would get better, not worse.

 

And then Kodos happened.

 

Even years later Jim doesn’t know how to describe a man like Kodos. The governor of Tarsus, his actions, became the shame of the human race, the most prolific travesty to occur since the end of the Genocide wars upon Terra’s soil. Four thousand people . . . just gone in the course of a few hours. Thousands more died slow anguished deaths in the months following.

 

It was raining that day, Jim remembered. How could he not? Tarsus was like a brand. His scars, though mostly psychological were visible like any other. There were many days he’d woken up in the hospital during his academy days because he had forgotten to eat for so long he passed out. Bones would gaze at him with a contemplative stare, but nobody knew about Tarsus that didn’t have the correct security clearance. Jim wasn’t willing to tell anybody, even his best friend. And the doctor was always griping that Jim was almost underweight, going so far as to bring snacks with him during classes or away missions just so he would eat something. Bones wasn’t stupid. There were lots of things he didn’t know about Jim’s past and his issues with food seemed like the tip of a very large iceberg, but if Jim wasn’t talking about it, Bones would utilize alternative methods to keep his friend and patient healthy. If that meant enlisting the damned green blooded hob goblin’s assistance, so be it.

 

But Jim kept his silence. How was he to do anything else? The entire incident was classified up to the very top of the admiralty and even if it wasn’t, he valued the privacy that was afforded to him and the other survivors. Nobody had to know the nightmares he’d soothed from in his babies’ heads as they were left recovering, how a fourteen year old felt more responsible for a group of children than possibly their own parents had. Nobody had to know the vision of emaciation his little group was, the dead eyes that peered out of hollowed faces or the skin that was blistered and dirty. Nobody had to know the truth, that since Tarsus, four of his group still had trouble regulating appetites, that five of them still had ongoing therapy, that two of them were so embittered by Starfleet they’d shipped themselves out to the most remote places they could, only keeping in contact with the rest of the children with whom they’d survived.

 

He still remembered though, how the blood of the four thousand was washed away into the concrete, how the rain drops mingled into his cheeks, hiding the tears that he didn’t even realize he was crying at the time. He remembered Kodos’ announcement:

_“The revolution is successful. But survival depends on drastic measures. Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. Therefore, I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered.”_ 3

And then everyone was screaming, people were running, and the guards were shooting indiscriminately, some with a maniac gleam in their eyes. Jim barely had the mind within him to collect the children running loose in the street and make for the hills, leaving the square and the massacre behind them, but even then they weren’t safe. The crops had all but failed by then. What little that was edible was still ensconced in wine cellars and hidden food stores. Of course, the largest cache was in the central building, but Jim and the other children weren’t nearly so desperate at that point to go so far into Kodos’ territory. Jim found himself with the care of about thirty children, some older than him and some so young they weren’t even out of diapers yet. Hunger ravaged their camp and night after night Jim snuck into the towns attempting to find something or someone who could keep his kids alive another day.

What did he have to show for it in the end? Scores of dead beneath his feet, the vacant eyes of children that he’d been happily babysitting only months before? The chilling realization that he’d just felt an infant take its last breath beneath his fingertips or that the only kid left that was older than him, the only one who could share the burden even a little bit had fallen ill and died in the night? What was worse? The emptiness in his stomach or the emptiness in his soul? The panting breaths of Kevin, his youngest as they ran away from phaser fire? The screams of Ronil when another band of wandering survivors literally tore the limbs off the Andorian for a last desperate meal? The small haltering gasps of T’Laina, sounds that any self-respecting Vulcan would never be reduced to, as she died of blood loss in Jim’s arms? Dreams and nightmares that haunted him even in his waking moments, could only have stemmed from memories that dark.

It was raining too, when Kodos’ men finally caught up to them for the last time. Jim remembers they killed Momo on sight because they didn’t want to have to carry her weakened form all the way back to the central building. Two more, some of the younger children Sara and Moss perished from hunger in the holding tanks. And even now Jim can feel the phantom pains of being dragged from his babies into a dimly lit cell, stripped of all his clothes and whipped mercilessly. By then T’Laina was gone and Jim couldn’t bring himself to care as each crack of the whip seared a stripe of fire into his back or buttocks or thighs. He couldn’t bring himself to react when Kodos himself bid his guards to leave the room. He didn’t even really flinch or struggle when the executioner’s hands roughly pushed his legs open and a pulsing erection was forced into him. It hurt, oh God had it hurt, but for Jim it was only one more step towards the death he’d begun to crave, because he’d finally given up hope, given up the will to fight. Kodos had won, if being stuck on that pestilence filled colony could be called winning. The harsh staccato of Kodos’ breath against his ear, the grotesque feeling of semen and blood lubricating his rectum for that vile man’s cock to slip in and out of him existed on another plain of existence that Jim had long since vacated. His children were to be killed and he was to go too, but Jim understood that some fates were worse than death. That rape, it wasn’t for Kodos’ satisfaction, not really. Its sole purpose was to steal the last vestiges of rebellion from Jim’s soul.

And it had worked hadn’t it? When they’d thrown him back in with the children all he could do was hold onto them as they cried in fear, some new understanding permeating the group that the time was final. No more running. No more starving. Just an agonizing wait for peace.

Just peace.

Then Starfleet arrived and they were all saved and nine hungry, defeated children were left to deal with the aftermath. What a fucking mess that was.

At first they were kept together. Recovery, therapy sessions, living situations were all dealt with the thought of intense dependency in mind, but soon relatives wanted their sons, daughters, nieces, and nephews back, wanted them to just forget and be normal again, because they couldn’t handle the waifs that returned from that damnable colony. So they began to split up. Frank showed up one day to the hospital three sheets to the wind, but was allowed to take Jim back home to Iowa.

Something in the boy’s eyes must have scared the drunk then. Maybe it was the certainty that Jim didn’t care what happened to him, the complete promise that he wouldn’t hesitate to murder Frank in his sleep that kept the man away. Frank never again lifted a hand against him, drunk or otherwise and Jim was left to languish in the curious eyes of the people of Riverside gradually slipping further and further into a haze of destructive behavior, sex, and alcohol. Winona didn’t care. She hadn’t even come back from her assignment off planet, though Starfleet had given her the option. Sam couldn’t handle the emaciated shell that had returned from Tarsus, couldn’t reconcile the foolhardy little brother with the creature that stood before him, so he left too. Then it was just Jim and Frank, practical strangers to each other, but that suited them just fine as long as the alcohol never ran out.

But after Nero, after Khan Jim had finally begun to feel at peace. The demons that haunted him from Tarsus IV were still there, but exploring space with his crew, with Spock and Bones on his lovely Lady Enterprise had finally given Jim what he’d lost all those years ago in that cell: hope.

And like some sort of fucking poetic justice, Tarsus came back rearing its infected head.

It started with a comm.

“Sir there’s a Thomas Leighton on channel four asking to speak to you.” Jim’s head swiveled around to Uhura in confusion.

“Put him on the view screen.” Uhura nodded and turned back to her station. Only moments later the vid screen clicked to life and Tom’s face appeared. If time had been cruel to him, Jim couldn’t tell. Though the Tarsus survivors kept in close contact they rarely ever saw each other face to face. A couple of his kids had entered Starfleet and he’d requested that they receive the Enterprise as their first commission, but the majority of the nine lived throughout the remote reaches of the universe. Thomas was certainly older than he had been the last time they’d seen each other, but it was perhaps the wisdom in his eye that gave Jim the impression that the man hadn’t changed all that much. Back on Tarsus, Kodos had felt it a fitting punishment to pour some sort of acidic material over the left side of his friend’s face when the Tom had unrepentantly spit in the executioner’s eye. He now wore a dark plaster over that side, covering what Jim knew to be heavily scarred skin tissue and an empty eye socket.  

“Tom! It’s been a while since your last comm. What can I do for you?” Jim could practically hear Spock’s eyebrow lifting from his place at the Science Station, but the Captain ignored him momentarily. Admittedly it was odd that he of all people would keep the company of a man, a scientist especially one with as much notoriety as Thomas Leighton, but stranger things had happened. Hell, Jim had come back from the dead. He didn’t really care if others approved of his friendships, especially if those friends were his kids. Thomas gazed towards Jim and then let his eye travel along the bridge, observing the individual crew members. Thomas had been one of the Tarsus nine to rebel against the idea of Starfleet, but as a scientist on the developing planet Q he still had a lot of influence.

“Not a social call I’m afraid Jimmy.” Jim saw Uhura turn swiftly in her seat in surprise out of the corner of his eye. Though Jim insisted that his crew speak informally to him, it was sort of tacitly agreed that James Tiberius Kirk was “Jimmy” to no one.

“What’s up?”

Thomas’ expression was grim as he began, “Martha’s been doing some scouting and we think we found him.”

Jim straightened in his chair earning another confused glance from his First Officer, but he ignored that too, instead choosing to focus all his energy on the view screen. “What’s Martha doing something like that for? Aren’t you two expecting in a month or two?”

“It was honestly happenstance. You know she’s one of the less recognizable of us since she’s had some work done. Martha followed a hunch and we both think it’s good.”

“Confirmation?” Jim leaned forward in his seat elbows placed on his knees with his fingertips pressed together in contemplation. Thomas nodded once, decisively.

“I’m sending it through to your pad now. It’s encrypted of course, but I’m sure you know the proper place to send it to. Martha and I will keep an eye out here and wait for your arrival. Emilia’s requesting that you stop over and pick her up for the trip.” Thomas smiled then, the right side of his face stretching against the plaster. “She told me nothing would keep her from coming to the baby shower, not even this.”

Jim smirked a little, but glanced at his pad when the files began to appear in his inbox. Nodding swiftly Jim stood, still facing the view screen. “We’ll be there as soon as possible.” He glared for a moment. “Don’t you or Martha do anything stupid either. I expect to see the two of you alive and healthy when I get there.”

“Will do Jimmy. See you soon.” The screen went dark for a moment before returning to the view of the stars they’d been charting moments before. Jim was aware of the confused and curious looks he was receiving from every member of the bridge crew, but he couldn’t deal with them now. Glancing down at his pad Jim only now realized that his fingertips were turning white because he was gripping it so tightly. He could feel the tremors beginning in his legs and the bile rising in his stomach. No doubt if he looked in a mirror, Jim’s eyes would be dilated from the fear and misery that was making itself comfortable in his mind.

Without looking up at his crew, Jim turned sharply towards the door and noticed out of the corner of his eye that Spock was taking a step toward him. Only the vast amounts of time they’d spent together informed Jim that his First Officer was concerned, but he couldn’t let his crew see his melt down. Tarsus was still the one thing he desperately needed to hide.

“Lieutenant Uhura!” The woman straightened in her seat.

“Yes Captain?”

“Open a ship wide communication and tell Ensign Riley and Yeoman Rand to meet me in my ready room immediately. Their replacements will cover for them for the remainder of their shifts. Then, once you’re finished with that, please open up a priority Alpha One communication to Admirals Komack and Barnett. Stress the need for haste and also patch that through to me when you get connected. Don’t let their secretaries give you the run around. I don’t care if they are in a meeting or fucking their wives. I need to speak with them yesterday. Understood?”

“Yes Captain.”

“Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Chekov. Plot a course to Starbase 17. Warp 4 and await further orders.”

“Yes Captain.” Sulu and Chekov answered in unison.

“Commander Spock, you have the con.”

And before anyone else could speak up, before Spock could even disagree and attempt to follow him, Jim marched off the bridge and beat a hurried path towards his ready room where he could break down in solitude.

\---{{{***}}}---

At Warp 4 it would take the Enterprise seven days to reach Starbase 17, but with such high priority information, there was no way Jim could order the ship any faster until he got the final go ahead from Starfleet command. There was no doubt he would get it either. Komack wasn’t Jim Kirk’s biggest fan, but if there was one thing the two had in common was their mutual hatred for Kodos the executioner. Of course, Komack did not have the personal experience of Tarsus, but even he had a heart and a weak enough stomach to vomit all over the nice rug in his office the day the first images of Tarsus began to circulate. Even Komack could understand Jim’s position on this, which was good, because even if Jim had to steal one of his own shuttles against the orders of the admiralty (and most definitely with the help of his children currently stationed on board) he was going to go to Planet Q.

Even if it was a minuscule chance, Jim would take it.

His babies deserved that much.

So when the call from the admiralty finally came and permission to progress in a preliminary investigation further than the Starbase was confirmed, Jim commed the bridge and up the warp speed to six. That would cut the travel time in half without stressing the ship too badly. Scotty was probably mumbling obscenities towards his captain down in engineering, but that was just fine with Jim.

The next four days stretched Jim’s patience. He could barely strip himself away from the possibilities that lay in the future, so he attached himself with single minded determination to his position of captaincy. Spock gazed at him from the science station with almost visible concern and Bones had taken to following him around much like he had years ago after his failed suicide attempt, but neither of his friends could get more than simplistic reactions from Jim.

_“Damnit Jim! I don’t know what this is, but it needs to stop yesterday!”_

_“Captain, it is the height of illogic to inform no one of the ship’s directive. As First Officer it is my duty to assist you in all orders that come down official command channels.”_

He couldn’t even bring himself to try though, because all his focus was split between memories of Tarsus that were returning to his dreams with a vengeance, making sure the Riley and Rand were able to perform their own duties in more than a robotic way, and getting to the Starbase as quickly as possible before he himself fell apart at the seams.

Emilia was beamed aboard rather than having someone sent for her in the interest of haste. The woman had changed drastically from the starved child of Tarsus. Her hair was a long shiny brunette shade and her flesh healthy. She shined and had she been anyone else, not one of his, Jim probably would have made a pass at her. Beauty like Emilia’s, was hard to come by. Underneath what Spock would call her “aesthetically pleasing attributes” was a sense of confidence that Jim knew stemmed from survival. Part of her appeal was her strength and when Emilia’s arms wrapped around his neck and he gazed at her strained smile and weathered eyes, Jim wasn’t worried about what the crew standing behind him in the transporter room thought. He wasn’t worried about what laid in front of him, Kodos, Thomas, Tarsus. He simply basked in her comforting strength in a way he wasn’t allowed with his other children.

Seven days later the Enterprise went into standing orbit around Planet Q and the scientist Thomas Leighton and his wife Martha beamed aboard.

_Comrades._

_Family._

And he wouldn’t let Kodos rip that away from him once again.

\---{{{***}}}---

_“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value;_

_rather it is one of those things that give value to survival._ _”_

_C.S. Lewis_

A rudimentary plan was in place and already Jim could see that Spock was having none of it. He’d known the Vulcan for a while now, been in his company long enough to know that the non-expression on his friend’s face was one of discontent that bordered on insubordination. Spock got this look each time he decided that a Vulcan nerve pinch was the best way to deal with his Captain’s tendency to put himself in danger. Already Jim could see the man’s arm lifting and long, tapered fingers twitching in a completely un-Vulcan manner.

“Spock.” Jim’s voice was sharp and the Vulcan came to attention immediately, unconsciously. “You do what you were thinking about and I’ll have you court martialed so fast your head will be spinning all the way to the brig.” The captain didn’t have to look up from handing his pad to Yeoman Rand to know that the bridge had gone absolutely still. For all of their professional disagreements, Jim had never actually threatened his First Officer, even at Spock’s most thinly veiled attempts to undermine his Captain’s illogical plans. He could only imagine the look on his friend’s face and wonder if maybe he’d gone too far, but Jim couldn’t worry about that now. His mission parameters were clear.

The confirmation that Martha had obtained turned out to be a vid com of the actor Anton Kiridian who was the head of an intergalactic traveling theatre group still in its relative infancy, though it was quickly gaining popularity. The vid showed only moments of the play _Hamlet_ , but moments were enough. Even if Kodos had completely remade himself to look like a fucking Andorian Jim would have been able to confirm his identity. The self-assured cockiness, the terrible hatred, the lustful atmosphere of grandeur draped around Anton Karidian like a blanket, but it was no concealment to a frightened group of children that had suffered at his hands. On stage Kodos was just as captivating as he always was and his voice pulled Jim almost instantaneously back to that day when rain and blood mingled together. There was no doubt.

The bridge crew was still around him as Yeoman Rand grabbed his elbow, nodding almost imperceptibly and leaving towards the lift. Jim turned to face Spock. The Vulcan’s expression was kept carefully blank, so even Jim couldn’t speculate on his state of mind, but he had to push forward. Nothing would stop him, not even his First Officer, now.

“Spock. I don’t have to tell you that this mission has the highest classification of secrecy. Ensign Riley, Yeoman Rand, Leighton, and I will beam down to the surface. If I see so much as a Starfleet issued communicator down there that doesn’t belong to the away team the results will be far from ideal. Do you understand?” Jim watched as Spock clinched his fists in disapproval and tried not to feel guilty.

“Yes Captain.”

“Good. You have the Con Spock. If we do not report in twenty-four hours you are to alert Starfleet command for further instructions. Make sure Martha and Emilia stay comfortable.” Spock nodded and Jim turned to join Janice in the turbo lift.

“Captain?” Spock’s voice made Jim stop, but he didn’t turn around.

“Yeah Spock?”

“Be careful.” Jim would have smiled if he could. As it was, he hated himself a little when the lift doors shifted closed. He didn’t need Janice’s hand on his shoulder to tell him that he’d fallen into old patterns. He cared for Spock, for Bones, for the rest of crew. Hell, he’d cared enough to die for them. Splitting away from them in this situation was fulfilling all of his own selfish desires. He had to. He felt it in the marrow of his bones, the need to keep his new family away from the blemish that was Tarsus. His kids were already embroiled. They needed the sense of vindication that would come from capturing Kodos, even if it meant their lives. Even if it meant he lost Bones trust and Spock’s respect, Jim would push forward. The crew of the Enterprise could be spared that, he hoped.

God, he hoped.

\---{{{***}}}---

_“It's being here now that's important._

_There's no past and there's no future._

_Time is a very misleading thing._

_All there is ever, is the now._

_We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it;_

_and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one.”_

_George Harrison_

 

Thomas Leighton was a well-respected empirical research scientist. Steady, reputable, occasionally brilliant, Spock had followed his career from a cursory perspective as he had little interest in grain research, but was impressed by the quality of the doctor’s work4.

He could see no correlation between Dr. Leighton’s work and Starfleet that would ever lead to the obviously close relationship between the scientist and his captain Jim Kirk, but that relationship existed and Spock tried to fit it into the ever shifting puzzle that was his friend.

And Jim Kirk was a puzzle. When Spock had first glimpsed the cadet it was after Kirk’s third attempt at the Kobayashi Maru and he was understandably focused on the man’s blatant disregard for the rules. In the aftermath of Vulcan’s destruction and his sojourn on the Narada, Spock could admit a grudging respect for the blonde. It was the ultimate reason he had decided to accept Kirk’s request to be First Officer upon the Enterprise. While his counterpart might credit himself for Spock’s motivations (oddly self-serving indeed3) it had been an intense curiosity of a man that would blatantly cheat on a simulation one moment and then take a suicidal mission onto an enemy ship the next that eventually strengthened Spock’s resolve to become XO.

And Spock was honest enough to admit he was wrong about Jim Kirk. He was honest enough to admit that once he got to know his captain he began to feel that he understood the man a little more. But each time Spock felt his evidence and observations had given him a complete picture of his Captain, the man did something to reveal that Spock did not know him very well at all. 

Spock had misunderstood the regard his captain held for him when the Prime Directive was broken on Nibiru. He had miscalculated the extent of Kirk’s relationship with Christopher Pike, a fact made clear when the admiral’s final thoughts clanged around in his head for weeks after the USS Vengeance incident. Father and son. That is what Jim and Admiral Pike had considered each other and the gut wrenching agony that Spock felt that day of Khan’s attack had more to do with Pike’s pleas to stay, to not abandon the boy he considered son, to not abandon Jim, than it did with actually dying. And Spock had not needed the meld to feel Jim’s emotional turmoil at that time. Even if his pain was not written clearly in the Captain’s expression, his resulting erratic and irrational behavior demonstrated Jim’s mental state.

If Vulcan’s could show emotion, Spock sometimes wondered what gesture he could have made when it became clear that Jim was planning to utilize Khan and make a space dive into the USS Vengeance. Certainly there would have been confusion and exasperation for his captain, his friend, placing himself in danger once again without thought. There would be gratitude for Jim’s willingness to listen to logic, even at the sacrifice of his own pride and need for revenge. There would be heartbreak because Jim could not see, could not fathom just how remarkable he was at captaining a starship.

_“The Enterprise and her crew need someone in that chair who knows what he’s doing . . . and that’s not me. That’s you Spock.” 5_

The expression on Jim’s face in that moment, with the crew running through the corridors around them and death an almost absolute certainty, Spock had felt more out of control than ever, perhaps even more so than the time he attempted to asphyxiate Jim Kirk on the bridge immediately after the destruction of Vulcan. It was heartening to know that his captain had so much faith in Spock’s abilities, but disconcerting at the same time that Jim did not know his own worth. Jim thrust responsibility into Spock’s grasp never thinking once that the Vulcan would be unable to deal with it. All at once Spock knew the folly of reporting the Nibiru incident to the admirals. Jim would have never let anyone on his crew die if he could help it. He would not assign any member of his crew a job that he himself was unwilling to do. It was what directed Jim’s decision to enlist Khan, as ill-fated and necessary as that action was.

After the Narada, Spock had been reluctant to accept the fact that Jim was a competent Captain, but as their mission progressed, the blonde showed a flair for strategy and tactics unrivaled by his colleagues. His intelligence, though strangely kept hidden, was a refreshing balm to Spock who sometimes felt frustrated at the incomprehension of his human contemporaries. But most of all, what made Jim Kirk a great captain was his empathy. Even if the Captain himself could not see it, every crew member absolutely adored the blonde haired man, and served him with a devotion that was rarely seen in such an illogical species. When Jim Kirk was on duty crew moral went up an average of twenty percent. When he was sick, missing, or injured, moral dropped an average of sixty-two percent. Even statistically speaking commanding a starship was Jim Kirk’s first, best destiny6.

No amount of rationalizing or applying logic could explain his actions upon Jim’s death in the radiation chamber. Spock thought he knew death. He thought he had experienced agony, the soul rending pain of losing that which is closest to him. He had lost his planet and his mother, but losing Jim had torn something within him to pieces, weakening his shields for rage to seep forth from his skin and screams to burst from his lips, tears to fall from his eyes because _Jim was dead_ and Khan would _pay_. The satisfaction he had felt with his hand around Khan’s throat, repeatedly bludgeoning his head into the steel of the shuttle craft was primal. It had only been Jim’s name on Nyota’s lips that had ripped him from his delirium.

And what had that meant? He wondered that constantly sitting at Jim’s bedside waiting for the blonde to wake up. Though he knew how deeply Vulcans could feel emotion, he had never been so overwhelmed that his shields shattered so brutally. All there was of Khan was a haze of rage, adrenaline, and blood, something he had to assimilate in the aftermath whilst he dealt with the admiralty and made sure Dr. McCoy did not work himself into exhaustion. The hospital room was so still compared to the moments of Jim’s death and though his body breathed, Spock was unable to feel even the slightest brush of surface thoughts when he touched his fingertips to the captain’s wrist. It was inappropriate, Spock knew, but he could not keep himself from seeking, attempting to find some reassurance that his friend was more than a shell of flesh and bone.

When Jim finally opened his eyes, Spock was not ashamed to say he was among those who breathed freely again. He gave a “sigh of relief” as Nyota would say and thanked deities he did not truly believe existed for his captain, his friend’s safe return to consciousness.

And in those recovery days Spock thought he knew Jim Kirk, knew what made him “tick”, rationalized that Jim was a man who cared about his crew and that his sacrifice was one of honor and love. Then Winona Kirk appeared, berating the captain, saying patently untrue things and acting in an erratic, illogical, and threatening manner until Spock felt it necessary to nerve pinch her.

Her visit, unpleasant as it was, shed some light on his Captain’s personality. He’d observed over the course of the Enterprise’s mission that Jim was quick to place himself in danger if it meant saving another crew member. Jim Kirk was fiercely protective, but it seemed that he held no value in his own life. What Spock had initially seen as full-hardy, typical, human behavior, was revealed to have far reaching origins. An absent mother and abusive stepfather did not answer all of the questions that lingered in Spock’s head, but it certainly “went a long way” as Nyota would say.

Oddly enough, Spock’s greatest ally in the maintenance of James Tiberius Kirk’s life was someone who the Vulcan considered unpleasant company at best. Dr. McCoy was a recalcitrant, overly emotional man, but his investment in the Captain’s well-being and insight into Jim’s psyche was not only admirable, it was invaluable. “Bones”, though Spock would never call the man such, seemed to be creating a lexicon to understand Jim. What Spock could not immediately decipher, Dr. McCoy would have some frame of reference for at least. Between the two of them, managing Jim’s frankly staggering lack of self-confidence (though hidden well by bravado and a cocky smile) became easier.

So, if Vulcan’s could (or would admit to) feeling frustration, Spock would have done so immediately after the bridge comm from the scientist Thomas Leighton. Just when he and Dr. McCoy had settled into a pattern, just when the two men were making some headway into Jim’s issues, one mysterious comm and disconcerting (at best) orders from Starfleet command completely shut them out of Jim’s confidence. The Captain almost completely withdrew, performing his duties admirably, but maintaining a professional distance from all crew members except Ensign Kevin Riley and Yeoman Rand, two people who seemed to already know the details behind the situation, but were just as unwilling to speak to their First Officer or CMO.

Whatever catastrophe Leighton’s comm awakened, had obviously shook all three to the core. Jim was shielding, a skill that Spock was not aware the man possessed until then, but Riley and Rand’s tumultuous emotions flowed out of them in waves, threatening at times to overwhelm Spock’s own shields. He honestly had not been aware until that moment on the bridge that Jim’s control was as good as or possibly greater than a Vulcan’s. He wondered how his Captain had learned such disciplines, and absently marveled that the only sign of Jim’s own feelings existed in a slight tension between the shoulder blades and fingers pressed too tightly to the padd that Spock found himself illogically wishing to steal, if only so it could reveal what new danger Jim was about to place himself in front of.

Watching the lift doors closing, shielding his Captain from Spock’s eyes, caused an unpleasant sensation to build in the Vulcan’s side. Dr. McCoy would probably call it emotional distress, and Spock would have to reluctantly agree. Protecting Jim was all that he wished in the universe. Spock never wanted to be the one watching his friend die, unable to push through the glass separating them. He never wanted to see the life leave Jim’s eyes, or watch his lips struggle to make a smile. He never wanted to feel that debilitating rage again at the thought of Jim Kirk’s vitality being ripped away when Spock was the one who vowed to protect him. Spock never wanted to feel that he failed ever again to protect the one man who had become such a fixture in his life. It was not about duty, not anymore at least. Something fundamental within Spock knew that life might not be worth living without Jim Kirk in it. Spock hoped never to understand his older counterpart’s reality, an eternity without the one he could call Thyla.

Nobody had ever accepted Spock the way Jim did. Everyone always asked for more, even his own parents who consciously decided to create a child of two worlds. To everyone else, Spock was too human or too Vulcan. He showed too much emotion, or not enough. He did not conform correctly to the right social norms. To everyone else, Spock was of two worlds, but always incomplete in both. To Jim, Spock was Spock and the freedom that came with that was invigorating.

But Jim still had secrets. The last few days made that fact evident. And perhaps those secrets were even darker than a beaten, lonely child from Iowa. It still remained that Jim had banned Spock and any other Starfleet personnel from beaming down to the planet. The Vulcan could hear McCoy cursing fluently under his breath from the other side of the bridge.

“Well, hobgoblin, what are we going to do now?” the doctor said.

Spock turned his head, reluctantly away from the lift doors. “The captain has forbidden us from making any further tactical decisions doctor, as you well know.” McCoy frowned.

“Yeah, but we aren’t really gonna listen to that brand of crazy right!? You _know_ Jim. Whatever is going on down on the surface is suicidal at best. I’ll be damned if I have to scrape his flesh off that planet because I didn’t think to find out what’s going on!” Spock observed that the rest of the bridge crew was not even attempting to conceal their concern and curiosity, openly turned towards the ship’s XO and CMO. He did not know the doctor as well as Jim did, but even he could decipher what McCoy was really saying. _“I’ll be damned if I lose my best friend, because I was following orders!”_ This time, Spock found himself agreeing.

“You are correct doctor, but it is logical to observe that the Captain has his reasons for our orders. We are forbidden from going to the surface, but he did not forbid us explicitly from gathering more information.” Spock raised an eyebrow, a motion he knew the doctor did not like. But McCoy’s expression was merely contemplative until his lips pulled into a small smirk.

“You plan on using the women? Martha or something?”

“The term “using” implies that I am planning something untoward against the Captain’s honored guests. I merely plan on asking them if they can shed, as you might say doctor, some light on this situation.” Spock turned away from the doctor then, choosing to remain ignorant of the broad, triumphant grin on McCoy’s face.

“Why, Spock, you sly dog you.” Spock merely handed over the con to Sulu and made his way to the lift, neglecting to inform the doctor that he was not a form of canine and certain that Jim was already well on his way to the surface of Planet Q. Dr. McCoy joined him just as the doors closed. “Didn’t know you had it in you” the man grumbled as Spock spoke their destination to the ship’s computer. If he weren’t Vulcan, Spock would have had a hard time resisting the urge to smirk, but thankfully his physiology proved, yet again, to be beneficial. He only hoped that he would be just as successful protecting his Captain from whatever new danger had emerged.

“Indeed.”

\---{{{***}}}---

 

_“Why did you do all this for me?” he asked._

_“I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.”_

_'You have been my friend,' replied Charlotte. 'That in itself is a tremendous thing.”_

_Charlotte and Wilbur_

_E.B. White’s Charlotte’s Web_

\---{{{***}}}---

To be continued . . .

\---{{{***}}}--- 

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Annnd so, I’ve begun something else, without finishing my existing stuff. This just sort of smacked me in the back of the head and I couldn’t not write it. There’s more coming, but I don’t know when it will be up. I debated pretty seriously not even posting it in chapter format and then just making it a long one-shot, but I finally decided to release this and write more on it later. This is seriously the longest chapter of anything I’ve ever written and I’ve experimented quite a bit with the style. It makes me twitchy to leave something on my hard drive for so long without posting. Anyway, Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing (if you do that). I always appreciate feedback!  
> Fun fact: The title for this fic “Pilgrim of Eternity” is the name of the first Star Trek episode.  
> And the footnotes are as follows:  
> 1\. nu!Kirk [Chris Pine] says this is the 2013 film Into Darkness whilst dying in the radiation chamber. (But you guys already knew that.)  
> 2\. nu!Bones (McCoy) says this with nu!Kirk wakes up after dying in the warp core upon the Enterprise. (Showing he is his normal grumpy self.) From the 2013 film Into Darkness.  
> 3\. This is the announcement Kodos the executioner made directly before the massacre of 4000 people living on Tarsus IV before a fungus effecting the grain supply and other crops caused a colony wide famine. The Tarsus massacre was possibly (most likely) a form of Kodos’ own unique form of eugenics. TOS episode: “Conscious of the King” (I think.)  
> 4\. This is Spock’s observation in the TOS episode “Conscious of the King”  
> 5\. nu!Kirk [Chris Pine] says this in the 2013 film Into Darkness before performing the space dive with Khan into the USS Vengeance’s cargo/shuttle bay.  
> 6\. Roughly quoted as “Captaining a star ship is [James T. Kirk’s] first, best destiny.” Spock says this at the end of the second TOS movie.


End file.
